


Memories that Make us

by Eafee



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Accidents, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Modern Era, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eafee/pseuds/Eafee
Summary: 'Of all the awkward situations Historia could have forseen herself getting into upon returning to Trost. She must say, sitting opposite her old friend--who had been presumed dead for several years now, sharing a spot of tea at three in the morning was pretty low on the list - or well, it's appearance on the list she would hope unlikely.Yet here she was, eyes googling the person she had watched brutally ripped from life what seemed like a life time ago, happily looking over some of her sisters oldest china with a friendly smile.'~It was over a decade ago, Historia left this town. She decided she couldn't live emoungst all these shadows. Show her face after everything that happened that year. Perhaps she should have tried harder--to make amends and heal. But it was much easier to run away from it all.It was, but now she has the ghost of Marco Bodt bound to her for some unknown reason. So her choice to hide from the past she led as 'Christa Lenz' seemed to have been stripped away with it. Just her luck...
Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Mina Carolina/Annie Leonhart, Mina Carolina/Thomas Wagner, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Memories that Make us

**Author's Note:**

> Hey yall, I must confess, I started writing this in the middle of the summer. I wrote up the entire plan and base work yet never actually finished it. I hope you enjoy the concept.

  


The incessant dripple of the rain assaulting the outside of the taxi window was not helping Historia, as she leaned her forehead against the icy cold sheet of glass. It had only been an hour or so, but it felt as if she could have been sat there for more than double that by now. She was going out of her mind already, and there were three hours to go. As her driver poorly hummed along to some dreadful track, bobbing his head to nonsensical rhythm of that crime he called a 'tune'. 

  


"Could you not turn that off, Please?" She spoke flatly, not currently in the mood to endure his horrendous taste in music, even to be polite. 

  


"Oh, of course. My apologies mam'," he was quick to press off the radio, receiving an approving nod from the petite, twenty six year old woman in the back of his car.

  


He seemed to want to say something more, as he opened his mouth to do so, visible in the front mirror. Perhaps he realised she wasn't exactly in the mood, because he seemed to hold his tongue and look back to the road before letting a word out. 

  


For all its faults, at least the traffic to Paradis wasn't awful, in fact there was very little hold up for her entire trip so far. She was currently only a couple of minutes away from the boundary of the Maria district, soon enough she'd end up in Rose, and then to the humble town of Trost, where she spent a majority of her childhood. It wasn't that she didn't want to visit her sister, far from it. She'd had enough of their father--that was the long and short of it. Rod Reiss was the kind of man one can only stand for so long, his sudden desire to be a father to his fully grown children nothing more than a way to make him feel better about his own decisions in life. As much as Frieda defended him, Historia couldn't help but despise him. 

  


So, back to Trost it was, at least for the time being. She was more than thrilled to see her older sister, it had been months since she'd last been able to head up to the Reiss estate, and of all of their relatives she was by far the one Historia held dearest to her. That being said, the anxiety she felt upon returning to Trost left her almost ill. 

  


It had been ten years. Ten years since she had decided to leave, since she decided she just couldn't stay there anymore. Perhaps it was about time she headed back, but the truth was there were certain things Historia just didn't want to have to revisit. There was a good reason she left, she had to. 

  


Tapping the tips of her fingers against the worn down, chestnut leather seat, Historia watched idly out of the window. The passing trees and road signs weren't particularly interesting, she was managing to keep her thoughts off of the harsher times of her history in the town. 

  


Maybe she was just looking at it from a the wrong perspective. She could stand to be more positive. But then again maybe it isn't that simple. Nonetheless, she still had hours in this car to endure, that was her main concern for the moment.

  


  


~

  


  


Eventually, Historia arrived at the apartment complex alive, somehow. 

  


She a breif thank you to the driver, before taking her bags from him. Declining his offer to carry them up for her and stepping towards the grand, glistening clean new glass doors. Seemed they finally got rid of the old ones, but that seemed to be far from the only change with the place. Heading to the elevator, she pressed in the floor Frieda was on, dragging along her heavy bag with some struggle. She hadn't trained properly in too long, and her muscles had started to suffer for it. She wanted to just get here as soon as possible, so she had opted out of the offered pit stop on he journey. Now, her aching knees regretted her past decision, as she hobbled her way down the upstairs hall. 

  


She felt some hesitancy, as she stood on her old doorstep, pressing on the doorbell giving that same old annoying ding-a-ling, that was set to annoy Historia even more than it did back when she had last lived here. After a considerable period with no response, she felt a little dread fall over her, perhaps Frieda was out, or maybe she had forgotten she was coming. Well, those doubts were soon relieved, as the sound of some of the harshest, speedily footsteps Historia had ever heard came from behind the door. 

  


The door swung open, almost enough to fly off its hinges. And as if she were some terrifying Jack in the box Historias sister pounced out, grabbing the shorter girl into a suffocating bear hug as she basically dragged her into the apartment. 

  


"You took far too long!" she hissed out, though it wasn't in frustration "I've been waiting hours here."

  


"Sorry! Sorry..." Historia coughed "Erm... Your kind of choking me-"

  


"Oh! Sorry!" Frieda released her, now letting her see the big smile spread across her face "It's just been far too long."

  


She nodded, as she now looked around her old home. It had been a decade since she had been here, and hardly anything had changed the way she thought it would have. Frieda took good care of her possessions, and took pride in the spotless state of her apartment. Historia had always tried to do the same, but overall she was the only one who would ever leave a mess. Their father payed the bills for the place, as he funded a majority of Frieda and Historia's expenses alike. As head CEO of a brand of successful companies, it was the least he could do.

  


So he could provide them with as much money they could ever want, but he refused to actually spend time with either of his own children? To be fair, he did used to have a lot of work to do overseas. Work, yeah, not just spending time in his summerhouse doing god knows what for months on end. 

  


"So, are you hungry? We can go for something to eat?"

  


"Well, sure." Historia spoke in response to Frieda, it was only lunch time, yet she felt so tired. Seemed odd since she had literally been sat down for the last four hours, but all she wanted was to lie down. She headed for the couch, taking in a deep breath as she slumped down upon the soft plush seating. 

  


Frieda chuckled, heading over to the other side of the couch to sit down next to her, with a little more grace.

"I think someone is a little tired, should I order in?" 

  


"If you don't mind." she nodded, her head back in the chair "thank you."

  


"Of course, anything for you, Chris- oh yes." she shook her head "I'm so sorry, it's just Historia now, isn't it?" 

  


"A-hm" she hummed in affirmation, "Don't worry about it."

  


Yes, it had taken some time. But upon moving in with her father, he finally let his illegitimate daughter go by her real name. She hadn't done so since she was young, after one of his advisors worried him over how the press would feel if they caught wind that head of the founding organisation had a problem child to some 'whore of a mistress'. He had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her upbringing from the start. Yet after her mothers death he apparently didn't have the heart to just abandon her. Instead, he palmed her off onto his other daughter, who basically ended up having to raise her estranged sister the second she was an adult. Frieda had basically given up the best years of her life just so Historia didn't end up in the care system, naturally she thought a lot of her older sister for this. 

  


Frieda had always been the type of person willing to do stuff like that. It was always for the greater good, helping others when she really didn't have to. She was noble, and considering all the trouble Historia brought her in her teen years, she deserved so much in return. But what could Historia do for her? She couldn't give her those years of her life back, money wasn't really something she needed. The guilt she felt fo it wasn't something she could get rid of, she couldn't do anything for her to brush it off like father, all she could do was be there for her the way she was for her. Not that Frieda needed her, she was always fine on her own, Historia had no idea how she coped so well on her own.

  


"So, Historia, are we going for pizza, like old times?"

  


"Definitely." Historia brought herself back up, more composed "But no pineapple, that's a crime."

  


"Oh, come on, it's not that bad."

  


"It's the devil's work."

  


  


~

  


Christa woke up, intense light burning her retinas. Her head felt as if it had emploaded within itself, as she regained consciousness, feeling a painful hand grip her shoulder. Muffled mumblings started to convert to familiar voices.

  


"Guys! Christa woke up." she heard from-was it Connie? She slowly cranked her neck-why does it ache so much- to her left, where the boy sat next to her in the waiting room. She must of fallen asleep, she was exhausted--wait, why exactly was she in the hospital again?

  


Memories started to flow back in the next few seconds, she remembers the ambulance. She remembers the sound of soul crushing screaming. One minute being on the road, the next upside down in a flipped over van. Then she remembers being frantically looked over by a paramedic as her friends unconscious bodies got dragged from the wreckage. She remembers getting here, thinking it must be some awful nightmare, some dreadful dream. But she's still here, dear god-

  


"Christa!" she heard a new voice- Bert, he stood in front of her, his face stained crimson in blood. He was not the only one, they all had their own scrapes and bruises as result of the accident. Christa's lip stung sharply, she reckoned it had split, though she wasn't quite sure. 

"Are you alright? Speak to us!" he called, trying to understand as she completely blanked him. 

  


"Y-Ymir." it's all she could think, as she croaked out painfully. "I-I'm so sorry I-"

  


"Now isn't the time, she'll be fine." Connie tried to reassure her, but the look on his face gave away his fear. Along with his ever shaking grip on her tender, chilled shoulder. 

  


Just across from them sat Sasha, her face in her bloody hands as she chanted a prayer of some sort, over and over in an attempt to calm herself. And Mikasa, she was being held back by the receptionist, a few nurses rushing over as she frantically cries out for Eren. They could barely hold her back as she tried to reach her brother. 

  


Eren? Oh god, his head! Christa still couldn't, get rid of that image, in the back seat, so much blood...

  


Jean soon got up, to try and help them stopping her himself, only to then have her bashing hard at his chest in a rage. His expression was stiff as ever, he looked full of dread, as if he were about to be sick all over the distressed girl. Annie just stood, leant against the wall watching the whole thing play out, taking in a deep breath, not blinking for a second. She seemed to only just be able to keep herself together, even she was struggling to keep calm. Her foot tapped up and down rapidly, as per usual barely able to stay still. Of course, she was high out of her mind, if Christas memories serves her- considering just how drunk she had been, who knows at this point. She seemed not to have come down yet anyway, if she had she would probably be out herself. 

  


Rather that lecture her, as he usually would, Reiner sat at a distance from the rest of them, rows a distance as he shook, looking down at his body. He was clenching and releasing his hands repeatedly. Not taking his eyes them as he did so. As he mumbled whatever inaudible from the side of the room. 

  


"This can't be happening... It isn't real... No!" Armin curled into a pathetic, shivering mess on the floor, his breathless cries overfrown by the floods of tears trickling down his face and running nose, no attractiveness maintained as he crumbled into a mess. He was hyperventilating, struggling to breathe through it. Bert rushed toward him, trying to calm him and help him balance his breathing. Even Bert's face bared blotchy marks underneath his eyes, running down his cheeks where he had clearly been crying. 

  


This could not be happening - it just couldn't. Christa could remember it all. She was drunk, very drunk, so parts of her night are fairly hazy. But the crash? Oh, she remembers that, with clarity. She might just puke herself, her stomach turned inside out. 

  


This can't be the end. No. The mindless things she said, she hadn't meant a word. Now that awful argument may be the last thing she said to Ymir. Her final words to her own best friend filled with such poison. She couldn't live with herself - herself? Is that all she's thinking about? So selfish… 

  


Perhaps it should have been her. 

  


Her heart raced, as she watched the others similarly trying to comprehend their situation. Three of their friends rushed into the emergency ward after what had possibly been the most awful night of each of their lives. At least things couldn't get any worse at this point. 

  


That's when a doctor, as slowly as a man could, made his way into the room. His expression vague as they all shot their heads into his direction, to hear whatever it wad he had to say that was taking him so long to brace for. 

  


And that's when it was thrown at them. 

  


Two of their friends were in the emergency ward. 

  


If the nine of them were struggling to cope before, imagine just how it felt when they found out Marco Bodt had just lost too much blood. How simultaneously they all looked to one another, a knowing look between them of the gaping pain in their chests. 

  


Marco Bodt was dead. He was actually, really, undeniably dead. 

  


Christa just sat there, the weight of the world leaving her unable to bring herself to move a muscle, her mind went numb. Was she upset? Confused? Angry? No. She didn't feel anything. Nothing at all. All she knew was how much it hurt, it was just so painful. 

  


Marco Bodt was dead, and there was nothing any of them could do to change that. 

  


  


~

  


  


Historia felt herself jolt up, as if electricity was running through her as she shrieked out in heavy breaths. 

  


As she came back to, feeling her arms maneuver around around her body in a haze. She wasn't in the hospital any more, she was in her room, familiar moonlight softly creeping through Inbetween the slides of her blinds, her satin curtains about as practical as they were ten years ago-

  


-That was it. She was dreaming. Well, it was more of a nightmare after all. A fever dream, right? It had been ten years. 

  


Well, it was an all too familiar scene. One she hadn't been experiencing for the first time. It was certainly not once she had woken up in a cold sweat, reliving that night. That night that was etched into the cracks of her memory, only to show its face whenever it saw the chance.

  


She calmed herself, sitting up between sheets. In her warm, four poster bed. 

  


It had been ten years. She knows she should be over it, it'd be so much easier to just move on. But being here is bringing it all back. 

  


She hadn't really had a chance to think about it since it happened, she figured she best not dwell in it, get all upset over how things went down. It wasn't like it was Historias fault, she wasn't the one at the wheel, after all. She was twenty six years old, a grown adult. Back then she was just a dumb kid, it's not like she could have done anything differently-

  


-is what she could always try to tell herself all she wants, but deep down, she knew full well how different things could have been, but there wasn't anything she could do now. 

  


It was far too late to fix the mess she left behind her. 

  


Marco Bodt was dead. Undeniably. 

  


So why? She wondered. Why was he stood right there, just a matter of feet from the end of her bed? 

  


  


  


  



End file.
